Chapter 22
Dimitri
SONG: ALL APOLOGIES BY NIRVANA
Giuseppe's restaurant closed at midnight on Tuesdays. I arrived at twelve fifteen with a manila folder and a gun I hoped I wouldn't need.
The front door was unlocked. Either Giuseppe trusted me or he had twenty men with rifles positioned throughout the building. Probably both. Old school Italians appreciated symmetry in their security arrangements.
I found him in his private dining room. Same one where we'd negotiated my marriage three months ago. Felt like three years. Or maybe three decades. Time moved strangely when your wife's cousin tried to murder your best friend.
"Dimitri." Giuseppe stood and poured two glasses of grappa without asking if I wanted one. "You look terrible."
"Long night." I took the glass. Didn't drink yet. "Lots of exciting conversations with people who didn't want to talk."
"I can imagine." He settled back into his chair and gestured for me to sit. "What did they tell you?"
"Everything." I dropped the folder on the table between us. "Names. Dates. Payment schedules. The whole operation laid out in excruciating detail."
Giuseppe opened the folder. His hands were steady, but his jaw tightened with each page. Photos from the warehouse meeting. Bank records showing cash transfers. Phone logs. The Albanian's testimony transcribed word for word.
And at the bottom, the photo of Geraldo that the shooter had identified.
"Merda," Giuseppe whispered.
"That's one way to put it."
He looked up. Rage and disbelief warring on his face. "When?"
"The planning started about six weeks ago.
Right after your family dinner where someone mentioned Marco's death during a toast." I'd memorized the timeline.
Committed every detail to memory because that's what you did when family tried to kill family.
"Geraldo left early. Angry. Your wife mentioned he'd been drinking too much lately. "
"You have surveillance on my family dinners?"
"I have surveillance on everything that matters." Not apologizing for it either. "Your nephew made contact with Albanian intermediaries the next day and started arranging the hit three days later. This wasn't impulse. This was planned. Calculated. Deliberate."
Giuseppe's hand shook slightly as he set down the photo. "He came to me last month and asked if I knew who'd really ordered the hit on Marco. If it was true that the Armenians were working for you."
"What did you tell him?"
"That the past was the past. That we'd built something new. That revenge would destroy everything we'd accomplished." He laughed. Bitter. "Apparently he disagreed."
"Apparently."
We sat in silence. Two men who'd tried to build peace watching it crumble because a stupid kid couldn't let go of a grudge. Marco Benedetti had been twenty-four when he died. Caught in crossfire during a territory dispute. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong decision to bring a gun to a negotiation.
Had it been my order that killed him? Technically yes. The Armenians had been clearing territory on Bratva instructions. But I hadn't known Giuseppe's nephew would be there. Hadn't ordered his death specifically. Just wanted the Italians out of the Sunset District.
Didn't make me innocent. Just made me less guilty than Geraldo probably believed.
"What do you want?" Giuseppe asked finally.
"You know what I want."
"Say it anyway."
"Justice." I met his eyes. Held them. "Traditional justice. The penalty for trying to kill a Pakhan's second. For attacking his family. For starting an unauthorized war."
"Death."
"Death," I agreed.
Giuseppe looked older suddenly. Seventy-three years collapsing into something ancient and tired. "He's my sister's only son. Francesca will never forgive me."
"And if I let this go, my organization will never forgive me.
They'll see weakness. Mercy. They'll think I can be manipulated through my wife.
Through our alliance." I leaned forward.
"I gave you twelve hours to deliver him.
That was generous. Some of my people wanted me to burn down your operations until you handed him over. "
"But you didn't."
"But I didn't." Because Giulia slept in my bed and I loved her more than I wanted to admit.
Because destroying Giuseppe's empire would destroy her family.
Because I was trying to be better than my father even when everything in me screamed to salt the earth.
"I'm trying to do this right. Clean. Minimize damage to the alliance. "
"By killing my nephew."
"By executing someone who tried to murder my second and kidnap my sister." The distinction mattered. Had to matter. "This isn't personal, Giuseppe. This is business. This is tradition. This is what happens when someone breaks the rules we all agreed to follow."
He finished his grappa. Poured another. "If I refuse?"
"Then I come get him myself. And everyone between me and Geraldo becomes collateral damage. Your men. Your properties. Anyone stupid enough to protect him." I paused. Let that sink in. "I don't want that. Neither do you. But I will do it if you force my hand."
"You'd risk war."
"I'd prevent war. Weakness invites challenges.
If I let this slide, every idiot with a grudge will think they can come after my people.
The Chechens. The Armenians. The Chinese.
Everyone who's been waiting for an opening.
" I stood and started pacing because sitting still felt impossible.
"Your nephew handed them that opening. He made this choice. Now we all live with the consequences."
Giuseppe watched me move. Calculating. Trying to find an angle that didn't end with his nephew dead. Wouldn't find one. There wasn't one. Geraldo had signed his death warrant the moment he'd hired those Albanians.
"I need to talk to him first," Giuseppe said.
"No."
"He's family."
"He tried to kill my family. That voids his membership card." I stopped at the window, looking out at North Beach sleeping peacefully below. "You want to talk to him, do it after you deliver him. Confession is good for the soul or whatever priests say."
"I'm asking as a favor."
"You're fresh out of favors." I turned back. "You have nine hours left. Use them to find Geraldo and bring him to neutral ground. The old warehouse on Third Street. You remember it?"
"I remember."
"Nine in the morning. tomorrow. You bring Geraldo.
I bring witnesses. We do this properly. Publicly.
So everyone knows the alliance held. So everyone knows justice was served.
" I headed for the door, then stopped. "And, Giuseppe?
If he runs, if you warn him, if he disappears into thin air, I will hold you personally responsible. "
"He won't run." Giuseppe's voice was heavy. Final. "I'll make sure of it."
I left him sitting there. An old man at a table surrounded by evidence of his nephew's betrayal. Probably calling his sister right now. Probably destroying his family to save the alliance.
Collateral damage in a war Geraldo started.
Outside, San Francisco was cold and foggy with morning fog that turned streetlights to halos. My car was where I'd left it. No bombs. No ambush. Giuseppe was handling this professionally at least.
My phone buzzed.
Viktor: Maxim awake. Asking for you.
Relief hit like a physical thing. I drove to the hospital going twenty over the speed limit. I didn't care. I needed to see him alive. Needed to confirm he'd survived his idiot decision to take bullets meant for me.
The ICU was quiet. Maxim looked like hell. Tubes and monitors and bandages. But his eyes were open and focused when I walked in.
"Boss," he croaked.
"Idiot," I replied, sitting down next to the bed. "What were you thinking?"
"That someone had to keep you alive."
"You almost got yourself killed."
"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." He tried to smile. Failed. "Did you find them?"
"Found them. Interrogated them. Discovered your shooter was hired by Giulia's cousin Geraldo as revenge for Marco Benedetti."
Maxim processed that. "Giuseppe know?"
"Giuseppe knows. He's bringing Geraldo in tomorrow morning."
"Think he'll actually do it?"
Good question. Giuseppe could theoretically warn Geraldo. Help him disappear. Destroy the alliance to save his nephew. But that would make him look weak to his own people. Would make the Italians look untrustworthy to every other organization watching this play out.
"He'll do it," I said. "He has to. His honor demands it."
"And then?"
"And then we execute Geraldo in front of witnesses from both families. Make it official. Make it stick. Show everyone that the alliance is stronger than blood loyalty."
"Heavy stuff."
"Welcome to leadership." I stood. "Get some rest. The doctor says you'll be back to annoying me within six weeks."
"Looking forward to it."
I left him there and drove toward Silverleaf. Dawn was breaking over the city. Pink and gold painting the fog. Beautiful in that way catastrophes sometimes were when viewed from a distance.
Giulia was asleep when I got home. Curled up in my shirt because apparently she'd claimed my entire wardrobe.
I stood in the doorway watching her breathe.
Peaceful. Unaware that in five hours her cousin would be delivered to me for execution.
That her family was about to tear itself apart.
That the bubble we'd built was cracking beyond repair.
I should probably tell her. Should wake her up and explain what was happening. Give her a chance to prepare. But watching her sleep was easier. Safer. Let me pretend for a few more hours that love could protect us from what was coming.
Coward's choice. I made it anyway.
Stripped down to boxers, I slid into bed next to her. She rolled over automatically and draped herself across my chest like she'd been doing it for years instead of weeks.
"You're home," she mumbled, half asleep.
"I'm home."
"Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."
She did. Trusting me completely. Believing the lie because she wanted to believe it.
I held her and watched light creep across the ceiling. Counted down hours until I had to destroy her family to protect mine. Until I had to prove that the alliance mattered more than mercy. Until I had to be the monster everyone expected instead of the man she thought I could become.
Four hours and forty-three minutes. Then Giuseppe would arrive with Geraldo.
Then everything would change.
Then we'd see if love could survive justice.
My money was on justice. Love was fragile. Justice was eternal.
But I hoped I was wrong.
For once in my life, I desperately hoped I was wrong.